All the Little Things in Between
by Foreverintheclouds
Summary: Flying through endless galaxies can quite possibly be the greatest adventure of a lifetime. But within the great universe of boundless excitement are tiny stars holding tiny memories that make a life extraordinary, and truly worth living. One-shot series focusing on our adorable little Russian and the memories made while aboard the Enterprise.
1. Food Fight

**a/n: Hello everyone! Happy first day of February! I've decided that after such wonderful feedback from my other story, I would maybe start a new one on here!**

**This will mostly be a series of one-shots from different points in time, as well as probably Chekov-centric, since I just can't help that I love him so much. Cover photo credit goes to lovely devianart use Angelical Design. I absolutely love reviews, so if you like the story, I would love to hear what you think! Until next time my friends, I hope you all have a lovely day!**

If you asked who exactly had started it, well, you would get a slew of answers ranging from "the lieutenant from the medical bay who always sits near the door" to "that one engineer on the far left table that likes to sit with that one girl from security".

Now if you asked any one of the people who sat at the senior command crew table that particular day, you'd get attempts at trying not to make eye contact, mumbled, nearly inaudible responses, and efforts to try and change the subject completely.

All in all, it didn't take a genius to figure out who ended up causing the maintenance workers to stay two and a half extra hours just to clean up the mess.

* * *

The whole story began when Chekov hadn't been having the best of days. That was for sure.

He'd stayed up way too late the previous night working on some new designs for a new set of circuitry down in engineering and almost arrived late to Alpha shift after sleeping through his alarm an extra half hour. With no time to get ready, he'd simply thrown on a pair of pants and uniform shirt and completely ignored his usual attempt at taming his curls. It was a lost cause anyway.

He arrived to the bridge with literally seconds to spare, but not without a few concerning glances from the rest of the crew. They didn't say anything, and he was glad they didn't. He knew he probably looked a mess, and he didn't need anyone else pointing it out.

After seating himself at his work station, Chekov was able to glance at his reflection in the metallic shine of the helm. His hair was a mess, more than usual, and there were dark circles lining the lower parts of his eyes. In an attempt to rectify some of the situation, he smoothed out his wrinkled shirt and pants, and ran his fingers through his unruly curls a few times. He checked his reflection once more and deemed it adequate enough to continue working.

Needless to say that he was all but ready to head to the mess hall for lunch after the awful morning he'd had.

He gathered up his food from one of the replicators and sat at his usual table on the far side of the room. He shared it with the rest of bridge crew when they had a break the same time he did. Today happened to be Sulu and Kirk who sat with him; plus Scotty, who'd decided a sandwich break was needed in order to relieve his stress.

Chekov must not have noticed he was drifting off into sleep, because it startled the hell out of him when Scotty slapped the table a few times to get his attention. His head snapped up in surprise.

"Somethin' eatin' at ya, laddie?" The engineer questioned as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

"Nyet," Chekov replied, pausing a moment to stretch out his arms and yawn, "joost tired".

Scotty nodded his head in understanding. "Long night, eh? I know how that is. Have ta stay late sometimes ta make sure none of those bampots break everything. Can be quite tha pain when they can't even tell left from right, let me tell ya". He continued rambling on to himself about incompetent engineers and poorly-trained cadets, all while aggressively taking bites of his now-mutilated sandwich.

"You weren't up doing anything too scandalous last night now were you, Pavel?" Sulu teased with an awful impression of a seductive tone. Beside him, Kirk snickered as he ate a spoonful of his soup.

Chekov sarcastically rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Karu," he replied jokingly. He reached for the biscuit on his tray to throw at the laughing helmsman and threw it, realizing far too late that what he'd picked up wasn't his roll, but instead the cupcake Scotty had placed on the side of his own plate.

The pastry flew through the air and landed a direct hit on Sulu's face. Chekov held his breath as the cupcake stayed in place for a few moments before slowly detaching itself and landing on the floor with a soft _plop._

Vanilla frosting was smeared all over the poor helmsman's face, running from his left eye and all the way over to his right cheek. There was a stiff moment of silence before all three men around him burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter and giggles. Sulu slowly brought up his hand and took a glob of icing off the side of his face. He eyed the substance warily before looking up at his tablemates.

Chekov could have sworn he saw the devil flicker over Sulu's eyes, because the Asian man's features quickly settled into a wicked smirk. And in that moment, Chekov knew he was absolutely done for.

Sulu grabbed a giant fistful of the mashed potatoes on his plate and hurled it across the table. With a yelp of fear, Chekov used all his speed to quickly duck under the projectile, allowing for it to rapidly sail right over his head, and head straight for the table of engineers behind them.

"Oh crap," he heard Sulu mumble as they all watched the gooey mess fly right into the head of one of biggest, burliest, most terrifying men Chekov had ever seen. He was known for being an intimidating bully who wasn't afraid to make things physical when in an argument.

What a fantastic day this was turning out to be.

The entire mess hall fell silent as the remaining potatoes fell into a glob on the floor. The man sat there in silence for a moment before quickly standing up and aggressively pushing his chair out from behind him.

"Alright!" He yelled out, turning to the people behind him. "Which one of you wise asses threw this, huh?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Chekov saw Sulu slowly bring his mashed potato-covered hand down below the table and behind his back.

"Well?" The man yelled out again, spreading his arms out in front of him. He turned towards the table where the bridge crew was seated, and Chekov's eyes widened in fear.

"It was you wasn't it ya little punk!"

"Vhat?!" Chekov quickly put his hands up and frantically shook his head. "Nyet, Nyet! Eet vasn't me I-"

The engineer clearly wasn't buying it and was cracking his knuckles in preparation for what Chekov assumed to be his doom. "You think this is funny? When I get done with you I swear you'll-"

_Smack._

The man was effectively silenced as a piece of lemon pie struck him right in the face.

Chekov slowly turned round in astonishment and saw Kirk standing there, his fingers covered in pie cream and that smart-ass smirk painted onto his face.

"Hey, take it easy," he said. "It was just an accident. And I'd advise you not to talk to my crew that way again, unless you want the rest of the pie to go along with your new makeup". His grin widened as the people around him began laughing hysterically.

If that engineer had been angry before, now he was thoroughly pissed. His face and the tips of his ears turned a bright red, and he let out a yell of bellowing rage.

"That's it!" He screamed. He turned towards his table, grabbed a huge handful of his spaghetti in his oversized hand, and violently hurled it across the room towards Kirk.

Obviously already anticipating this course of action, the blonde simply ducked down a few feet out of range, and the food completely missed him, landing in the hair of a woman who sat at a table filled with people from medbay. She let out a scream of horror as the red sauce dripped down her face and onto her blue dress. With murder in her eyes, she grabbed the thing closest to her, a plastic bowl full of tomato soup, and launched it back towards where the other projectile had come from.

It was a poorly thought out throw and very weak, which caused the soup to not even make it halfway across the mess hall, and instead completely soak another two engineers at a table adjacent from where the bridge crew sat.

From there, all hell literally broke loose.

You could barely tell who was throwing what at this point; it was just a flurry of various foods coasting across the room at unimaginable speeds.

Chekov had taken refuge behind the table he'd previously sat at-Kirk and Scotty had flipped it on its side in order to use it for protection from the flying food that seemed to be coming from all directions.

The two men in question were off somewhere gathering ammunition, while Chekov and Sulu stayed behind and tried not get blasted in the face with pie.

Sulu peeked over the top of the table and let out a very loud (very manly) scream as an ice cream cone came straight for his face. He ducked down just in time to avoid getting covered in the frozen desert.

"Wery nicely done, Karu," Chekov muttered as he sat with his back against the table, attempting to clean the mess off his shirt from the macaroni and cheese he'd failed to notice flying towards him.

Sulu turned towards him defensively. "Hey, this is not my fault," he pointed at him.

Chekov rolled his eyes. "Oh nyet, oof course, eet es noot your foolt," the boy replied sarcastically, "you joost accidentally started a food fight vith ze entire mess hall. Nov I geet et".

"If you hadn't ducked out of the way then the other guy wouldn't have gotten hit!"

"Vhat vas I soopossed to do? Let eet hit me? Eef you didn't throw ze potatoes, I vouldn't hawe had to duck!"

"Well if you hadn't thrown that cupcake, then none of this would have happened!"

"I already told you zhat vas-"

"Ladies, ladies," Kirk interrupted as he came up behind them and crouched down behind the table. "Enough with the arguing. Right now we need to focus on arming ourselves. Something Scotty and I excellently took care of". He set down a table cloth he'd been holding behind him and opened it up, revealing at least a dozen, fully intact and heavily creamed pies. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and Chekov knew that this fight was only going to get worse from here on out.

"Wait a minute," Sulu paused. "Where _is _Scotty?"

His answer was received a few moments later as a cry rang out from behind them.

"I'll stuff you all inta tha next millennia ya oof-lookin twallies!" Scotty screamed out as he scrambled across a series of table tops-all while launching various food items he was carrying in his arms.

He stumbled in behind their makeshift barricade covered in a myriad of food ranging from chocolate sauce to guacamole. It took all of his will power for Chekov not to laugh.

"Would not advise going back out there again," he panted. "Place is a bloody war-zone".

Chekov nodded in agreement as a carton of milk went soaring over the table and exploded in a mess on the ground.

"McCoy is going to kill us," Sulu concluded.

"Yeah," Kirk agreed, rubbing the back of his neck, "he probably will. And I don't think Spock would find any of this very 'logical' either. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy it while it lasts".

He grinned devilishly as he held up one of the pies.

Each one of the other men retrieved their own ammunition, and Chekov picked up one as well. He eyed the pie warily, considering whether or not to follow through with his next course of action. He looked at the chaos around him, the flying food, yelling people, and overturned tables, and smiled. Well, screw it. This was a food fight after all, and he still had to get even with whoever had ruined his shirt with their lunch. Standing up, he took aim, setting his sights right on a cadet who was hiding precariously behind a table.

It wasn't even four hours later that Chekov found himself hiding out with Sulu in one of the Jeffries tubes in order to avoid McCoy, who, as predicted, had no trouble in deducing the culprits in that day's events.

Totally worth it.


	2. Not a Big Deal

**a/n: Hello all! Being the not-so-big fan of football I am, I only tuned in last night to watch the Superbowl commercials. Which brings me to this: Did anyone see the Star Trek commercial with Anton and Zach?!I screamed and I swear my family thinks I'm insane. Anyway, here's the second installment of this story. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, review review review. I absolutely love hearing from you guys, and they really encourage me to write faster. Until next time, have a fantastic day my friends!**

Chekov hadn't meant for it to get this bad, at least, he hadn't anticipated the situation to play out as horribly as it did.

He'd been helping Scotty out in engineering; something he did as often as he could nowadays. There was some form of mechanical malfunction with some circuitry on E deck, so he'd volunteered to check it out and try to repair the damage. Scotty made him promise to call up if he needed any help.

Wow, should he have listened.

The problem with the circuit board turned out to be worse than anticipated, and Chekov had to dash up a flight of stairs in order to cut the power leading to the now heavily-smoking wires. He'd felt his arm snag on something and a sudden rush of pain, but his mind ignored it and forced him to focus on the situation at hand. He was eventually able to cut the power and soon after, repair the damaged wires.

It wasn't until he was making his way back to engineering did he notice the searing pain emitting from his left arm. A quick glance at it nearly stopped his heart-the entire sleeve of his shirt from the elbow down was completely soaked in blood. Making sure no one was around to see him, Chekov made a beeline for his room and locked the door behind him.

The adjoining bathroom he shared with Sulu had another door that he locked too, just to be safe. As carefully as he could manage, he pulled up the sleeve of his bloodied golden shirt, and inhaled sharply at the excruciating pain that burst forward with every small movement. After what seemed like forever, Chekov was finally able to manage tugging his sleeve up to just above his elbow; what he saw made him cringe in dismay.

From his wrist to slightly below his left elbow was a deep gash that was, now, currently bleeding profusely due to the removal of his shirt. In a flight of panic, he ripped open the medicine cabinet above the sink and retrieved the first aid kit that came standard with every room on the ship. It took some time without the use of his other hand, but he was eventually able to correctly open the box and retrieve a roll of stark white gauze.

Chekov placed one end of the fabric between his teeth and the other around his arm. The agony of such a small endeavor made him dizzy, but he shook his mind back into focus. He began carefully wrapping his arm; a small gasp of pain emitting from his lips every so often.

"Meester Scott is going to keel me," he decided as he examined the gauze now somewhat secured around his arm. There were already a few drops of blood seeping through the three layers of fabric, and the pain was still throbbing with every heartbeat. He thought about going to medbay for some more gauze. He was pretty good at sneaking in without McCoy noticing him, but not without one of the nurses spotting him. There was no way any of them would let him through with an injury like this without relaying the entire thing to the doctor; and he was bound to tell Scotty eventually. That would most likely lead to Chekov's being off engineering duty for god knows how long, and that was something he really didn't want to deal with.

The situation was a lose-lose game-Chekov just had to decide on which way he'd like to give up. He looked over his mediocre attempt at emergency triage and sighed.

"Yep. He eez defineetly going to keel me".

While stuck in his thoughts about all the ways Scotty was probably going to yell at him, Chekov failed to notice the buzzing coming from the comm at his side at first. The persistent vibration snapped him back into reality, and he quickly grabbed his communicator and received the call. In his rush of speed, he momentarily forgot the state of his arm, and hissed in pain as he brought the comm up to his face.

"H-ello?" He breathed out, taking in a few breaths to calm the burning sensation that came with every movement.

"Are ya alright, laddie?" Scotty questioned with an air of concern. "Ya left fer E deck an hour ago. Is somethin' wrong?"

Chekov's mind was racing. Tell Scotty now, risk getting yelled and then violently dragged down to medbay. Don't tell Scotty, risk somebody _else_ finding out and _then_ sending him to be violently dragged down to medbay.

Both scenarios were unpleasant, and he finally decided on the latter for the time being. If he could just hide it a bit longer, maybe he could figure something out. Maybe he could-

"Chekov?" Scotty asked, this time with an inkling of panic behind his tone.

"Nyet, nozing eez vrong," Chekov assured him as best he could, "I fixed ze problem vith ze vires and circuit board. I vas joost coolled back to ze bridge and forgot to tell you. Soorry".

Buying the fabricated lie for now, Scotty hesitantly accepted the excuse. "It's alright, laddie. Head on back to tha bridge. Don't want tha Cap'n gettin' all up in a fit because you were late".

Chekov breathed a sigh of relief. He was out of trouble…for now. "I vill. Zank you Meester Scott".

He snapped the communicator shut and placed it back on his belt. The shirt he was currently wearing was soaked in blood all over the left sleeve, so he begrudgingly grabbed a clean one and carefully removed his old one. What seemed like such a simple task before was now so difficult, it was ridiculous. Chekov finally got on the new shirt and sighed. Now all he had to do was survive the rest of Gamma shift and then he would be able to start figuring out some form of excuse for his injury that wouldn't get him kicked off engineering duty for months.

* * *

The walk to the bridge went rather smoothly. Chekov had pulled down his shirt sleeve as far as it would go, so no one seemed to notice the gauze around his arm. He was glad for that-he didn't really want to explain himself to anyone right now. The faster he got to the bridge, the faster his shift could be over.

The doors hissed and slid smoothly open as he entered his familiar home.

"Ah, Chekov," Kirk beamed, "you're back. Scotty didn't work you too hard down in engineering did he?"

Chekov forced himself to smile despite the throbbing pain still emanating from his arm. "Nyet. Ve didn't do much. Joost fixed some mechanical problems ewery now and again".

_Vell, it vasn't a total lie, _Chekov thought.

Kirk seemed to not notice anything out of the ordinary and simply smiled. "Well it's good to have ya back. Without you at the helm, I've been the one who's had to listen to Sulu's jokes all day".

"Thanks for the support, Captain," Sulu called as he raised his hand into a 'thumbs up'.

Kirk dissolved into laughter as Chekov took his normal seat at his workstation. He began pulling up files from the data he'd been working on before his appointment with Scotty. He'd been mapping out one of the local nebulas they were going to soon pass through, and there was still a substantial amount of calculations left to do. For that, he was glad. Maybe the math would get his mind off of the dull burning on the underside of his arm.

It was about an hour and half later that Chekov's plan completely fell apart-not that it was too much put together in the first place.

He was in the middle of a telemetry equation concerning the grid location of a growing star when a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, and he began to sway in his chair. Fully determined not to let it get to him, he planted his feet solidly against the ground and gripped the helm for support like a lifeline. He squeezed his eyes shot in an effort to stop the world from spinning around him.

Beside him, Sulu piped up. "Hey, you alright?"

Chekov began to wave him off. He was prepared to throw an excuse about a headache at him when the blistering-hot pain in his arm emerged once more, and he bit his lip in pure determination not to cry out.

"Chekov, hey," Sulu now fully turned toward him, "what's wrong? You look like you're about to pass out".

Chekov gritted his teeth against the torment. "Nyet," he gasped, "I joost-I zink I joost need to-Ah!" He cried out as the agonizing throbbing became nearly unbearable, and he turned over his arm to check on the wound.

The blood had apparently soaked through the gauze he'd put around it, because now his clean golden shirt was once again stained crimson. His stomach rolled at the sight, and he realized he needed to get away from the bridge now before anyone noticed how bad his injury had gotten.

Sulu had stood up now and run over to him, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder and leaned over. "What the hell is going…oh my god," he gasped at the sight of the boy's forearm. Chekov locked eyes with him, and Sulu donned a look of utter disbelief. "I'm going to get Doctor McCoy. Stay right here," he ordered.

Eyes widening in fear, Chekov called out. "Hikaru, vait don't!"

He stood up quickly, a mistake he realized far too late, and as he took a step forward, the world began to tilt sideways. The floor swayed dangerously beneath his feet. He stumbled back a few steps and then surged forward, the blackening of his vision becoming too much to handle. Chekov slammed against the cold, metallic floor on his good arm, and groaning, turned over onto his back.

Everything was blurry now, and all the sounds around him seemed to meld into one loud ringing. His vision began to darken and his eyelids felt heavier than ever. As the shadows of consciousness faded from him, all he could think about was how everyone was _so _going to kill him when he woke up.

Suddenly all light was gone, and darkness enveloped him completely.

* * *

"…know what the _damn _kid was thinkin'".

"maybe…thought he could hide it".

"Well _maybe _it's all that 'looking up to' thing he's got goin' for ya. You sure as hell ain't the best at settin' a good example. That's for damn sure".

Chekov woke to yelling voices and a severe, god-awful throbbing in his head. He shut his eyes against the bright light that shined down upon him and turned his head.

"Pleaz, stoop vith ze noise," he mumbled unhappily. "I cen't ewen hear my ovn zoughts".

"Well look who finally decided to join us," McCoy commented as he turned his attention to the boy lying in the bio bed behind him.

Chekov blinked the sleep out of his eyes a few times until his vision came back into focus. Doctor McCoy and the Captain were standing at the edge of the bio bed he currently found himself on; and they did _not _look the least bit happy. The day's previous events came rushing at him like a whirlwind, and Chekov sank back into the pillows as his face began to heat up in shame.

"So I'm guessing I vas out for a vhile?" He asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to be pressing down on him like a blackened storm cloud. Both McCoy and Kirk were not amused, the latter moving forward and crossing his arms authoritatively.

"A while? You were out for _six hours_," Kirk spoke incredulously. Chekov winced at the captain's tone.

"We had to give you an emergency transfusion after all the blood you lost," McCoy added. "I'm lucky I got to ya when I did. You were barely livin' when I got to the bridge. Almost had to sedate Sulu the guy was freakin' out so much". The doctor jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to where Sulu sat in a chair, head propped up by one hand and lightly snoring in his sleep. "He's been here since we stabilized you, which was about," he paused, taking a look at his watch, "four hours ago".

Chekov felt a pang of guilt as he glanced at his friend from across the room. He'd been waiting for _four _hours.

"Vhy deedn't you send him back to his room?" He asked.

McCoy shrugged his shoulders. "Tried to. He said he wasn't leavin' until you woke up". The doctor shook his head. "No one listens to me, though. No, they know everything. God damn CMO on this flying deathtrap and you all insist you know better".

Kirk clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Oh, come on Bones. Everyone knows you're the best doctor to come through Starfleet; even if you could ease back on the hypo sprays every once in a while".

McCoy rolled his eyes and shrugged the hand away. "I'll show you a hypospray ya pain in the ass," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that," Kirk smiled, cupping a hand around his ear. He laughed out loud as the doctor groaned and turned towards his office.

"Well now that you're awake," Bones called over his shoulder to Chekov, "I can finally check your stats and see if we can't get some sort of painkillers in ya". The man disappeared into his office, leaving Chekov alone with Kirk, who turned toward him once more, this time a serious expression painted on his features; a single eyebrow raised in expectation of an explanation.

Chekov knew there was no point in arguing. He was _so _done for. No way was he going to be let within a hundred feet of the engineering deck now. He sighed, ultimately accepting his fate.

"I'm…sorry I hid zis from you, Keptin," Chekov apologized, eyes locked on his entwined fingers that rested in his lap. "I vas joost scare zat…zat you vould find out and I vouldn' be allowed to help Meester Scott anymore. And I really love vorking vith him and I joost-" He paused, not quite sure what to say. "I'm sorry." The words hung in the air, the beeping of various machines filling the intimidating silence.

"You know, I have every right to ban you from ever shadowing Scotty again. _And, _given Starfleet protocol, suspend you for hiding an injury compromising to your health," Kirk reproached evenly.

Chekov couldn't look him in the eyes. "I…I understand, Keptin," he murmured. He felt tears beginning to swell in his eyes; something he wanted to scold himself for. He hated being reprimanded, especially by somebody he cared about. The feeling of being a complete disappointment was far worse than any of the pain he felt in his arm.

"But," Kirk continued, sighing deeply while taking a seat on the edge of the bed, "I won't."

Chekov looked up quickly in surprise, not quite believing what he just heard. "Vhat? But I zhought you said-"

Kirk held up his hand and Chekov closed his mouth, his face once again heating up in embarrassment.

"As I said, per protocol, I _should_ suspend you for your actions today. But I won't because even though I may not be one for protocol, I don't believe you deserve that," he said honestly, his head turning toward the young navigator. "I know you were only trying to hide it because you didn't want to get taken off engineering duty, but kid, do you know how not only blatantly stupid, but dangerous your stunt was today? Bones wasn't lying when he told you how bad it was. You were on the bridge passed out for four minutes before he got there. Four minutes I had to sit there and try and stop the blood that was coming from your arm. Do you know how completely terrifying it was for me to see you like that? Pale and bleeding and barely breathing? Chekov you may not know this, but I care a lot about our family, and that includes you. If anything had happened…if Bones hadn't gotten there in time I-" He stopped, taking in a breath to gather his thoughts. "I don't know what I would have done".

Chekov sat there for a moment, taking in all Kirk had just told him. He felt a warmth spread through his chest at the thought of how lucky he was to have a family that cared for him so much.

"I'm sorry I caused you to vorry so mooch," he apologized. "I vas joost trying not to be a burden".

Kirk sighed. "You're never a burden, kid; just a cause of worry once in a while. Take Bones and me for example. I'm in and out of this place two times a week at the least". Chekov saw him wink as he turned towards the doctor's office. "You never hear him calling _me _a burden," he yelled loud enough for all of medbay to hear.

"Not a burden my ass!" McCoy shouted from inside his room.

Chekov laughed, the dreariness of the day lifting from his shoulders.

"So ya see," Kirk continued as he stood up, "families may annoy the hell outta you and worry you to a wreck at the same time. But they're never a burden to one another. I don't want you ever thinking that again, got it?"

Chekov nodded, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "Yes, sor".

Kirk patted his shoulder, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Good. Now get some sleep. I don't think you'd want Bones having to knock you out with a hypo spray. We _both _know how much that sucks". Chekov winced at the thought of it. "Besides, you're gonna need as much rest as you can get. Once Sulu wakes up, boy are you going to be in for the scolding of a lifetime. Though, you can probably get out of it if you use those puppy eyes. Gets em' every time."

Chekov chuckled as he settled into his bio bed and closed his eyes. He already felt himself waning in an effort to stay awake, the day's events finally tolling on his systems. "Zank you, Keptin," he whispered, the world of sleep slowly taking over.

Before turning to leave, Kirk pulled up a blanket over the small ensign and smiled, ruffling a hand through the boy's messy curls.

"Get better soon, kid".


	3. Revenge

**a/n:Wow two updates in one day. That's a new record! Anyway, I figured since I was done with this chapter, I'd post it as well. I had waaaay too much fun writing this one. As always: review! I always love your feedback! Enjoy and have a wonderful night!**

It had been long established that being on board a starship and soaring through space and all its endless wonders, while exciting and forever producing new adventure, could get wholly and absolutely boring.

This being said, the _Enterprise _constantly found itself the host of rigorous attempts to quench such boredom. In other words: there were pranks. A lot of them.

All the time.

And these weren't just any normal pranks. No. The _Enterprise _housed some of the greatest and most brilliant minds of the century; and when they pulled pranks, they went _hard._

Who could forget the time someone filled the _entirety _of the bridge in bubbles?

Or perhaps one could reminisce about the entire week it took Doctor McCoy to find and dismantle every single alarm clock that had been hidden somewhere in medbay and set to go off at various time of the day.

But maybe you'd like to hear the fabled story of how the Captain failed to notice _for three hours _the pastel clown makeup painted onto his face after he'd passed out in his quarters due to a long night of drinking.

Oh but what about when Lieutenant Uhura swore murderous vengeance on whoever poured staining dye into her coffee and turned her teeth red for two whole days?

Whatever stories you've heard, no matter how absurd, are probably true. And if you ever wanted to know who was the culprit behind it all, then you'd have a very good chance at guessing correctly given the choice between a certain Captain, Pilot, Navigator, or Head Engineer. Almost all the practical jokes schemed throughout the years were sprung from those very minds.

The times those jokes turned truly personal, and sometimes quite frightening, however, were when their creators were pinned against each other.

So that's how Chekov found himself tiptoeing with all the grace of God through Hikaru Sulu's room, excitement barely contained inside him.

It was going to be just a small practical joke. In fact, the helmsman should be grateful that the mischievous navigator was only going this far in getting his revenge. Chekov knew his friend deserved a whole lot more punishment for what he'd done. Seriously?! Hanging _every single god damn pair of underwear _he had **_ever owned_**all over the mess hall? Sulu was lucky the boy hadn't marooned him on some deserted planet one night while he was asleep.

Chekov had chosen a simpler, and sweeter, in his opinion, form of revenge. He probably would have designed something much more elaborate given time, but he'd been so ambushed with work lately that he barely found a moment to plan. He figured this was an adequate compromise for now.

As he slowly crept through the dark room, he imagined the look on Sulu's face after the prank worked. In his hand Chekov held a small bottle of dark blue color dye, a substance specially used when coloring hair. He suppressed his giggling at the thought of Hikaru sporting the new color. This revenge was perfect.

Chekov quietly opened the cabinet on the outside of the bathroom door that held all of the bathroom oddities and immediately spotted what he was searching for. The bottle of shampoo was different from the ones Sulu usually used, so Chekov guessed he must have gotten a different kind. The label specified it as containing some sort of herbal ingredients and to be 'plant friendly' or something along those lines.

"Oh my god, Karu," Chekov giggled in disbelief. He knew his friend was obsessed with plants, but seriously?

Knowing he was against the clock, he laughed off the situation and quickly set to work on the bottle. Chekov carefully unscrewed the small lid and used his free hand to uncap the blue dye. As carefully as he could manage, he poured the thick, gooey liquid down the spout of the shampoo bottle until the substance was completely gone. With stunning precision he placed the cap back on the bottle and positioned it in the exact same spot it was when he'd retrieved it.

"Zis vill teach you to hang my undervear around ze mess hall," he whispered deviously as he shut the cabinet door.

Chekov then entered the bathroom that connected his and Sulu's adjoining rooms and grabbed the shampoo bottle his friend was currently using. With an impish grin he poured the remaining liquid down the sink drain and held onto the bottle as he entered his own room. If there was one thing that pranking taught him, it was _always _hiding the evidence. Chekov threw both the shampoo bottle and the container of blue dye into a trash bag, which he promptly tossed down the main garbage shoot in the hallway.

He brushed off his hands, practically beaming at the thought of his handiwork. Sulu's shift was scheduled to end at approximately 0100 hours; it was just a bit past midnight now.

Fully satisfied with his plan, Chekov changed into his pajamas and crawled excitedly into bed, the thought of breakfast with the command crew tomorrow morning bringing him glee as he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Morning came as quickly as he'd hoped, and he practically leapt out of bed with excitement. After putting on his shirt inside-out and then backwards in the same try, Chekov was finally able to properly dress himself despite his eager anticipation. After brushing his teeth and running a quick brush through his hair, he basically sprinted all the way to the mess hall.

Only a few people had taken up seats at the various tables throughout the large room, three of which were Uhura, Spock, and Doctor McCoy. They all sat at their usual table, chatting casually amongst themselves. Chekov put on his best poker face in order to divert all suspicion of the impending event from him, and after retrieving a small plate of breakfast, calmly made his way over.

"Morning Pavel," Uhura greeted him warmly, her features glowing and not showing the faintest hint of sleep deprivation.

"Morning," Chekov smiled back cheerfully, passing on the greeting to both Spock and McCoy, the former nodding thankfully in response, and the latter offering a mumbled groan of discontent as he sipped his steaming coffee.

Uhura laughed, taking a bite out of the muffin she held in her hand. "You get some decent sleep without an all-night shift?" She asked.

"Yes," Chekov answered genuinely, eternally grateful to the ensign who'd volunteered to take his shift after Kirk had ordered him to take a night off, "Eet vas nice to actually get more zan four hours of sleep. And all in von night too!" He exclaimed jokingly. Uhura giggled at his enthusiasm.

"Well I'm glad you did. Next time you should focus more on getting sleep and less time on working out math problems at three in the morning".

Chekov gave her his best I'm-not-a-child look and huffed. "Zose eqvations vere important designs for ze programming down in engineering," he argued, "Meester Spock knows zat, right?"

Spock, who had barely touched his food in favor of observing the conversation, spoke stoically. "While your dedication to the completion of your commissioned work is admirable, the state of your health falls as a prime objective, especially due to your still-developing immune system. It is ill-advised for a teenager of less than nineteen years to receive less than eight hours of imperative rest, an amount double the quantity you say you have on a normal night".

Chekov rolled his eyes and exhaled. "Eweryvon's a critic," he sighed as he waved them off and took a sip of his coffee.

As he opened his mouth to start up a conversation about Scotty's newest invention in engineering, Chekov saw Uhura's eyes widen in shock, and the rest of the mess hall turn towards the entrance in awe.

There in the doorway, standing rather grumpily with the most pathetic look of misery on his face was Sulu; his entire head of hair now a deep, royal blue.

There were a few gasps of surprise and a handful of snickers from throughout the room, but most of the occupants turned back to their food, afraid of receiving an evil glare from the steaming helmsman.

Uhura had suppressed her laughter by placing a hand over her mouth, while Spock remained indifferent as always, besides his pointed eyebrow currently raised toward his forehead. McCoy had failed to notice the commotion at first, which was why he nearly choked on his coffee as Sulu sat down across from him.

"Good God," he sputtered as he cleared the coffee from his throat, "what the _hell_ happened to you?"

Sulu, his face still contorted into an unhappy frown, rolled his eyes. "You think I know? Last night, I go to bed with normal hair, the next thing I know, I wake up looking like some alien hooker from the Ursa Major galaxy". He shook his head in anger, the dark blue locks flying back and forth and into his eyes.

He began aggressively stabbing the eggs on his plate with a fork before finally getting a piece on the utensil and shoving it in his mouth. "I think it might have been something with this new shampoo I got," he thought out loud as he chewed, "probably some damn loophole ingredient I didn't pay attention to".

Chekov, who was trying his very sincere best not to completely lose it, threw faux sympathy at his friend. "Maybe it vas somezing vith ze plant ingredients it has," he offered, "you newer know vhat kind of zings zey cen do".

Sulu pondered the suggestion thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're probably right. Stupid bio-friendly cleaner. One of the ingredients must have reacted wrong with the-" He paused for a moment, eyebrows creasing in contemplation.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I just got that shampoo the other day".

Chekov had believed he'd experienced times before where his heart had stopped completely in absolute and terrifying fear, and now was suddenly another one of those times. He nearly slipped off the edge of his seat as he realized his mistake.

Oh this was not going to end well.

"Yeah I don't remember even using it before last night. How did you know what was-"

Sulu stopped dead in the middle of his sentence as he stared at his plate full of uneaten eggs. Chekov's entire body was frozen in complete and utter panic, the single thought of "oh dear God" floating through his head. Sulu's head slowly lifted up until his gazed locked on the navigator that sat across the table from him.

"**_You,_**" he whispered deeply.

There was a moment of agonizing silence that hung between the two helmsmen until McCoy leaned ever so slightly to his left to murmur in Chekov's ear range.

"I would suggest running. I'd advise all the way back to Russia if you can manage".

Chekov was up and out of his seat faster than he'd probably ever be able to manage again in his life as Sulu yelled out and tumbled over the table after him. The boy was out the door and practically flying down the hallway as his friend gave chase behind him.

"Oh my God when I get my hands on you, there will be HELL TO PAY. Do you hear me Chekov!" Sulu screamed. "You'll be lucky if you're not stranded in space in a pod!"

Chekov ended up turning a sharp corner and climbing into one of the utility closets to hide as Sulu's angry footsteps rushed passed him in fervent pursuit.

Needless to say, it wasn't all too surprising when Chekov woke up in his bed a week later on the bridge, still in his pajamas and surrounded by all his friends, including Sulu, who just so happened to have a camera at the ready.

Chekov made a mental note to keep his mouth shut during a prank from then on.


	4. Driver's Ed

It had been a long three months since the last shore leave, and most of the crew were ready for some seriously needed downtime. The Enterprise was back on Earth in order to receive repairs and some maintenance. Kirk had suggested, ordered more like it, that the command crew head to the beach for the day.

Most everyone had agreed a day in the sun would do some good, except Bones, who'd been trying to find every excuse possible to get himself out of going. He lost in the end, of course, but mostly he'd agreed to tag along just to shut up Kirk's constant nagging.

The day went smoothly for the most part. There were the occasional sand fights and dunking, along with a brilliant sand castle building contest. Everyone had paired up except for Scotty, who ended up winning by a landslide after constructing a six-foot tall castle complete with a moat and operating draw-bridge. His bragging was put to an end a little while later though, after Sulu absolutely annihilated everyone in a surfing competition.

It was late afternoon when everyone agreed to head back to their respective hotel rooms and then meet back up to spend the evening on the boardwalk. Spock, Uhura, and Bones drove back in one car, while Sulu and Scotty used another. Kirk and Chekov were the last ones to leave after packing up the rest of their gear.

"Hey, you mind driving back?" Kirk asked as he slammed the trunk of the car closed. "My arms feel like they're gonna fall off after carrying that cooler all the way here". He tossed the keys over the side of the car to Chekov, who fumbled as he barely caught them with both his hands.

He stared at the keys for a moment before looking to Kirk, and then back to the keys. "Um…Ketpin, I…I don't know how to driwe," Chekov said sheepishly.

Kirk's hand hesitated on the door handle as he stopped short and turned, the most incredulous look on his face. "Don't know how to- what? What do you mean you don't know how to drive? Didn't you learn in school or something?"

Chekov shrugged his shoulders and then tossed the keys into the air; catching them before they fell. "Vith all zhe hassle of enlisting for Starfleet and ze schoolvork, I guess I newer got ze time to learn. It seemed more important to learn ze vorkings of a starship zhan a car. Noot much use for zhose in space."

Kirk stood silent for a moment, his eyes staring at the car, deep in thought. His head snapped up, and he patted the top of the car with his hand. "Get in," he said as he opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat.

Chekov's eyes widened in shock and he looked in the window and shook his head. "But I told you zat I don't know how to-"

"Everyone's gotta learn sometime, kid. And this time, is your time. So come on".

"But I-"

"No buts," Kirk asserted.

Chekov held his hands out towards the car incredulously. "I hawe no idea how to driwe zhis zhing! I know how to fly a Starfleet ship, not zhis piece of death on vheels!".

Kirk leaned across the console to open the driver's side door and smirked. "Chekov if you're scared of driving all you have to do is tell me".

Chekov paused for a moment, huffed, and then grabbed onto the door. "I'm noot scared," he mumbled unhappily. Kirk beamed.

"Well good! Then we've got nothing to worry about. Come on, we've got plenty of time to kill. I already sent Uhura a message that we're gonna be a bit getting back to the hotel".

Chekov pulled his door shut and glanced over at Kirk. "And Nyota eez perfectly fine vith vhat ve're doing?"

"More or less she thinks we're still on the beach and you're chatting it up with some lovely lady you met while packing up the car".

"Vhat!"

"Oh quit being so irritated with me and start the car," Kirk finally said.

Chekov thumped his head against the steering wheel and inhaled heavily. "If ve die, eet's your fault," he said as he started up the car.

"Yeah, yeah just put the car in drive," Kirk answered with a wave of his hand.

Chekov stared at the various controls around the console and the gear sticks lined up in the middle. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out which one would do what he desired. Pretty confident with his guess, he reached forward and hit a red button to the left of the steering wheel. Immediately the windshield wipers began rapidly swiping back and forth across the glass.

Furrowing his brow, he tried another button this time, a switch towards the middle of the console. The convertible roof above him slowly began retracting to the back of the car. Quickly trying to rectify the situation, he hit the switch directly next to the one he'd just flipped; this one causing the radio to turn on and nearly shatter Chekov's eardrums. The screeching music caused him to cover his ears and cringe as Kirk shot forward to turn the volume off.

The car was silent again, the roof open, and the wipers still swaying across the windshield. To the right, Kirk inhaled deeply.

"As much as I enjoy a top-down drive and the radio playing at a soothing billion and five decibels, maybe we should start by doing this," Kirk instructed as he grabbed the gear shift and slowly moved it into drive. The car shifted back an inch, causing Chekov to stiffen and grip the steering wheel like a lifeline. "Whoa, kid, relax," Kirk reached a hand out calmly, "we're only in the parking lot. Take a deep breath, and slowly pull forward out of the spot. It'll be a piece of cake".

* * *

Two hours, three near-misses, five angry shouting drivers, and a decimated rose bush later, Chekov and Kirk had finally made it to the freeway.

Needless to say that Chekov was pretty sure he'd developed an ulcer somewhere along the way and that Kirk was never going near a car with him in it again.

"Okay," Kirk breathed calmly, "we're on the highway now. There shouldn't be too much you can run into here. Hit it."

"Hit what?" Chekov asked.

"The gas pedal."

"Vhy vould I do zat?"

Kirk swiped a hand over his face. "It's a figure of speech. It means to accelerate the car so we can actually get back to the hotel sometime today".

Chekov rolled his eyes but complied. Applying a wary foot to the gas pedal, he slowly sped up until they were cruising at a decent speed. The remainder of the ride was rather decent, that is, until they reached the stoplight directly before the hotel.

Chekov did what Kirk told him to do upon reaching a red light: he slowly eased off the gas and applied the break until the car came to a complete stop. Everything had been going great until a bright red convertible full of twenty-something men pulled up next to them. A few of them were obviously drunk, for they were talking obnoxiously loud and laughing without any regards to anything around them.

One of the guys piped up as he looked over at the car. "Hey-Hey is that-is that Jim? Jim! Jim Kirk oh my God!"

A roar of laughter rose from the car, and Chekov glanced towards Kirk, a puzzled expression across his face. "You know zhese people?"

Kirk sighed deeply and reluctantly nodded his head. "I knew them back from the academy. Bunch of idiot cadets whose dads PAID FOR THEM TO MAKE COMPLETE FOOLS OF THEMSELVES," he shouted across the seat and out the window.

This caught the attention of all the men in the car, whose drunken grins had been replaced with sour scowls. "You talking smack, Kirk?" One of them asked. "Like you got hell to say when you're driving in that piece of tin with a twelve year old chauffer!"

Chekov looked at them, offended, and then towards Kirk; his eyebrows raised as if asking _are you kidding me? _

"What's the matter kid?" One of the drunker men asked. "You just realizing how much of a loser your buddy really is? I feel sorry for ya, I do! It's a curse to be around that walking disappointment."

Chekov's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he squeezed the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Kirk talk to him firmly.

"Come on, Pavel, don't let 'em get to you. They're a bunch of morons who had a little too much to drink."

"You're going to let zem say zhose zings aboot you?" Chekov asked angrily.

"I never let it bother me then, and I sure as hell ain't gonna let it bother me now".

Chekov sighed heavily, resentment still heavy in his mind. He felt his face burning in anger at the thought of what they'd said about Kirk.

"Hey Jim!" The driver of the other car called. "Why don't we settle this the way we used to back at the Academy? Light turns green and fastest car to the end wins!"

Kirk rolled his eyes, but the other driver smiled drunkenly in persistence. "Oh what's the matter? Afraid I'll kick your ass just like I always did?" This sent the other men into another fit of laughter and obnoxious giggles.

Chekov, who'd been taking in the whole situation, had made his decision. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and revved the engine a few times before shifting gears. A chorus of sarcastic "ohhhhhs" rang out from the opposite car.

"Pavel, no," Kirk warned him. "I told you, there's no need for this."

"Just trust me, Keptin," Chekov smirked, "I know vhat I'm doing". To add to the effect, Chekov reached into the glove compartment and grabbed a spare pair of black sunglasses and slipped them on his face; turning towards the men on his left, he tilted his chin up at them .

"Oh it's on ya brat," the driver called.

Both cars sat anxiously at the light, engines revving and eagerly awaiting the chance to move.

The tension was broken rapidly when the light suddenly switched to green. Chekov slammed his foot on the gas and the car shot forward. Soon they were barreling down the street, their opponents directly next to them.

As the vehicles neared the end of that strip of intersection, Chekov grinned devilishly as he glanced at the next light. Turning towards the car next to him, he waved and shouted "Hawe fun in prison!"

He quickly set his focus back on the situation and warned his friend. "Hang on, Keptin. Zhis is going to be rough!"

Chekov switched back into first gear and immediately slammed on the break. The wheels began screeching as smoke rolled out from under them and they began slipping across the road. The car threw them mercilessly to the left as they continued to spin out.

The car eventually slowed enough that Chekov was able to release the brake and shove it again in order to stop their movement completely. By the time the car was at a standstill, they'd done a 360, and were now facing the same way, their vision set on the other convertible, still flying down the road, only now, with a police car hot on its tail.

Chekov glanced over at Kirk, who was holding onto the dashboard for dear life.

"Are you okay?" Chekov asked sheepishly.

Kirk held up his hand and breathed in. "Give me a second to catch back up with myself before I pass out," he said. He sat there for a minute, breathing heavily and attempting to get his heart rate under control.

"You mind telling me how the hell you knew the cops were going to chase after them?" Kirk asked incredulously after composing himself.

"Eh, I saw ze police car on ze corner from ze light," Chekov shrugged with a smile. Kirk looked at him, shaking his head, and laughed.

"Brilliant," he simply said.

* * *

After finding the way back to the hotel and performing the onerous task of parking, Chekov finally unbuckled himself and inhaled deeply.

"Now I know vhy I newer vanted to learn how to driwe," he said. "It must hawe been my subconscious mind varning me to stay avay from cars".

Kirk laughed. "Hey we're all in one piece aren't we? It's not like we did anything that-"

"Where have you two been?!" A voice cut him off suddenly. Chekov and Kirk exchanged complete "oh shit" glances as Uhura stormed towards the car, a wrathful look about her face.

"If she asks about the smoking tires, we had to emergency brake to save a cute animal, got it?" Kirk quickly whispered.

"Got it," Chekov agreed.

The lie was a complete and total waste and Uhura found out eventually. She rectified the situation by banning Chekov and Kirk from driving by themselves from then on.

Of course, this rule was broken about twelve hours after its issuing, as most usually were, but Chekov would always remember that shore leave as one of the best.

Though, he vowed never to drive another car again for as long as he lived.


End file.
